


One More Night

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Series: The Hour Continued [1]
Category: The Hour (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abandonment, Child Death, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Men Crying, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, POV Lix Storm, Parent-Child Relationship, Past, Post-Season/Series 02, Sexual Content, There is something endearing in writing undressing scenes with OCD when the partner adapts to it, Undressing, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: So, Season 2 of “The Hour” left us with Lix and Randall facing the double blow of learning about their daughter AND Freddie severely wounded in hospital. Here’s my take on what happened afterwards. If you watch the famous scene with Lix and Randall learning about their daughter, you will spot that Lix carries a ring on a chain around her neck. Dare to learn what it means? Come with me…
Relationships: Randall Brown/Lix Storm
Series: The Hour Continued [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013298
Comments: 21
Kudos: 41





	1. Just Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Reading instructions:  
> If you are easily offended by smutty scenes, even soft ones, you might want to skip chapter 3. It is necessary for how the story goes, but you can fill in the gap using your imagination. If you don’t like the idea of something sexual happening between Lix and Randall (although, come on, they had a daughter together!), you might prefer to skip to chapter 5. You might wonder how they ended up there, but again, you can use your imagination.
> 
> If you want to see Lix' POV during the scene where they learn about Sofia's fate, read [Worlds Apart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510075).

„Sorry, I can’t offer you a drink. I quit years ago and don’t want to be tempted to use one on days like this.” 

Randall set a bottle of orange juice, a carafe of water and two glasses on the elegant table in his living room.

It hadn’t been a question that they left hospital together. 

It hadn’t been a question that they went to some place together to just – talk? be silent? What do you do when you just learned that your child was killed a long time ago and a good friend and colleague is in hospital with a life-threatening condition after he was severely wounded, probably because of his job?

It hadn’t even been a question that it was Randall’s place, because his flat was nearer to the hospital than hers.

“I think I will never be able to quit,” Lix replied as she took a seat in the armchair, “the world is too terrible a place to face it when you are sober.”

“It looks even more terrible when you are hungover,” Randall poured some juice in both glasses, and diluted his with water. He took a seat in the left corner of his sofa. He had taken off his coat when they had entered, but otherwise hadn’t done anything to make himself more comfortable. 

“The trick is to never be sober enough for a hangover,” Lix replied as she took her glass of undiluted juice, realizing he remembered she liked it that way although she had her last glass of it twenty years ago in Spain.

For a long time, none of them said a word. They just sat and sipped their “drink”. They were both journalists, both peculiar, sometimes even obsessed, with words, but now, words failed them. The whole situation was just… too terrible, too terrifying. A monstrosity. And there was so much left unsaid between them, so much that felt raw and sore… and then, there was something else, something precious and vulnerable between them. Something that, perhaps, could be too easily destroyed by words.

Randall sat in a perfect right angle on his sofa, accurately and composed. His flat was equally accurate. Everything was tidy, aligned, symmetrical. Everything had its place and its purpose and may it be only for decorative reasons. Nothing left to chance.

The flat was Randall, summarized, in essence, in a nutshell: leaving nothing to chance, having everything under control, no unfinished business, no loose ends. Yet, as she eyed him over, Randall, the always composed, the always accurate, the rock, the eye of the storm… she could tell how broken he was inside. 

Not only had she witnessed  _ how much _ earlier on. Now that she paid attention, she could see it. She saw it in his shoulders which were slightly hunched forward. She saw it in the way he clung to his glass as if his life depended on it. But especially, she saw it in his eyes which were staring to nowhere in particular behind the thick glasses. Those eyes, usually always observing, always gathering information, always trying to make  _ sense _ of  _ everything _ , they were withdrawn, unfocused, staring without really  _ seeing _ anything.

She couldn’t stand seeing him that way. She slowly got up and sat beside him on the sofa. For the tiniest moment she thought he would back off, but he stayed. He just placed his glass on the table.

She let her left hand crawl into his right hand and they intertwined their fingers. Like some weeks ago in the café, when they had been back from following a false trace, they were leaning against each other. Their heads, heavy with thoughts and fears, were searching and finding support in being the resting place for the other. They were just feeling the presence of the other one being near, seeking and finding comfort in each other’s strength and, perhaps, even in each other’s brokenness.

For minutes, they were lost in their own thoughts. Or not even thoughts, just glimpses of thoughts in a fog of horror, fear, loss, grief, and regret.

“Randall…” Lix finally broke the silence.

“Shhh…” to her surprise, he let go of her hand, reached for her chin and let his thumb run over her cheek. “I think tonight is not the night for talking, Lix.”

She looked into his eyes and saw that they were focused again, and they were focused on her. Despite the glasses, she could see there was a fire burning in them. A fire she knew very well. A fire she had seen the last time twenty years ago, when they had nothing to lose, when death was around the corner, ready and willing to take them like it had taken so many of their friends and colleagues before. 

As he brought his face nearer to hers, there was also a question in those eyes. He didn’t need to ask; she already tilted her head and slightly opened her lips. It was all the invitation he needed. 

He brought his lips on top of hers, and there was no careful approach, no soft nibbling and asking for entrance. Their tongues immediately engaged, as if they were welcoming an old friend back home. Welcoming and intimate, as if they had done this yesterday, as if not twenty years had torn and broken them, driven them apart, made them old, tired and bitter.

She felt his arm reaching around her, his hand grabbing her shoulder and pulling her closer to him, his other hand traveling to her hip, slowly wandering down to rest on her thigh. Despite all his quirks and inhibitions, Randall had always known what he wanted, and he knew exactly how he wanted it. There was nothing insecure about how he held her and how he kissed her. 

And Lix also knew exactly what she wanted. Right now, what she wanted aligned perfectly with what Randall wanted. One hand reaching around him, firmly stroking his back. The other crawling into his hair, bringing chaos into his order. Tonight, she wanted to unhinge him. 

In this kiss was all the passion they had held back since they had met again. And the desperation of finding out their daughter was dead. And the fear of losing Freddie. Tonight, they needed each other. Whatever the next days would bring for them, would bring for their team, would bring for  _ The Hour _ , tonight, they needed to feel each other, hold each other, love each other. 

“I need you,” Lix uttered when they broke the kiss.

“I never stopped needing you, Lix,” came Randall’s reply, low and hoarse, not for a single moment concealing how much he meant what he said.

They kissed again, hungry to feel and taste each other. This was not playful. This was two people drowning, seeking for rescue in each other.

Lix reached up and took Randall’s glasses off. 

For a moment, they just looked into each other’s eyes. There was so much desire, pain, and desperation in Randall’s eyes, more clearly now they lost their protection. Just looking into them touched Lix deeply. She cupped his cheek.

“Just tonight. No thinking. No talking.”


	2. Time

“Just tonight. No thinking. No talking,” Lix uttered.

Randall put his hand on top of hers, closed his eyes, nodded, took her hand, and placed a kiss on her palm.

“Bedroom,” she suggested.

He nodded, got up without letting go of her hand and pulled her up. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her again with the same desperation she had seen in his eyes moments before. She leaned into it. 

She started to unbutton his shirt and tucked it out of his trousers. He stopped her. Right. It was Randall, after all. They had to do it his way. 

He guided her to the bedroom in a way that distinguished him from every other lover she ever had. There was no haste, no passionate kissing, no unclothing, leaving a trail of clothes on the way. Instead, Randall radiated a monumental desire for her simply by guiding her tenderly, without a word, calm, sure, and determined. She hadn’t felt any man treasuring her that way in ages. Not once in the past twenty years.

His bedroom was as neat and tidy as the rest of the flat. And, like the rest of the flat, it was all but sterile, despite the simplicity of its style. It radiated taste, and a strange, comforting sense of being welcome.

The bed was spacious, and Lix wondered if Randall had a love life that demanded for it or if it was just him making sure he could sleep in all possible positions and still be somehow aligned in the golden ratio to the edges. 

She decided it didn’t matter, that it was a welcoming surprise. While they kissed, she reached up to his shoulders and applied a gentle pressure, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. That way, he had to look up to her while she was standing in front of him, and she quite liked that. 

She let Randall's braces slip exactly symmetrical from his shoulders and down his arms. Then, she reached for his tie. He tensed, she hesitated for a brief instant, then smiled. She didn’t just loosen it and pull it open. She carefully untied it, folded it, and placed it on the bedside table, perfectly aligned to the edges.

When she turned around, she saw his expression had softened and if her eyes didn’t betray her, there was something glistering in his eyes.

“We should both enjoy this, right?”

She whispered as she stepped forward and continued what she had started in the living room, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Lix,” he murmured as he was leaning slightly backwards, propping himself up with his hands behind his back, closing his eyes, tipping his head back, more or less presenting her his throat. She felt a small pain in her heart, followed by a warm feeling, because she realized what it meant. He trusted her enough to allow her to undress him. More, he would  _ enjoy  _ her undressing him. For most people, this would have seemed insignificant or normal. She, however, knew him well enough to know how much a sign of complete trust this was. The man who needed to have everything under control, every single detail, every word, every pin on the billboard, was willing to give up control tonight. And he was willing to give it up to  _ her _ . 

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, making sure she did it in accurate, smooth, symmetrical motions. He kept his eyes shut, flinching only once, when she tucked the shirt out of his trousers and didn’t manage to do it in a perfectly even manner.

She brought her lips down on his for a long, longing kiss, reaching into his hair to finally dishevel it completely.

This time, time was on their side. This time they didn’t need to fear the next air raid. They didn’t need to fear the impact of a shell next to them. They didn’t need to fear the sound of heavy boots in the stairway, shouts, and kicked in doors.

This time, they could take their time.

Time to undo his cufflinks and place them accurately on the bedside table, next to the tie.

Time to place his shirt perfectly straight on the valet.

Time to place his shoes and hers neatly under the bed.

Time to place his socks in the shoes.

Time to remove his trousers, first in a slow, teasing manner, then with a long, even pull.

Time to fold the trousers neatly and place them on the valet.

While Lix undressed him, Randall kept his eyes closed. When she took care of his clothes, he eyed her doing it. It was nearly as if his eyes burnt through her. He simply  _ enjoyed _ watching her doing this. 

There was one piece of clothing left.

As she stepped closer to the bed, he suddenly got up and pulled her in his arms. His kiss made it clear that now, he took back control and it was her time to experience what his skilled hands could do to take care of her and her clothing. 

She didn’t mind.

They never had had the time to relish playing with each other’s needs and expectations like this in Spain. It had always been under the impression of close danger, of lingering death. They were drawn to each other, comforting each other, seeking for protection in the other, glad to be still alive, not caring about the consequences because they didn’t expect to make it out of this city under siege, anyway. Artillery fire was their companion by day and night, directed at random residential areas to demoralize the inhabitants. There was never enough time and always the fear of being interrupted, by sirens, shells, or soldiers.

Now, they had time.

And Randall knew exactly what he wanted.

He started unbuttoning her blouse. Small, slow, smooth movements. Efficient, thoughtful and teasing. Suddenly, he hesitated. Lix followed his eyes and realized he was not staring at her breasts; he was staring at the ring she carried on a chain around her neck. 

His ring.


	3. Losing Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // Warning: chapter contains soft smut, avoid if you feel uncomfortable reading such scenes. Carry on with chapter 4 and fill in the gaps with your imagination. Carry on with chapter 5 if you want to avoid any sexual content.

There was a tension between them as Randall stared at the ring Lix carried around her neck.

She saw a darkness clouding his eyes. 

They needed to talk, they needed to come to terms with their past. They needed to address how they should go on from what happened today. From what happened earlier. From what happened later. From what was happening  _ now _ .

But…

She sought his eyes with hers.

“Later…” she was surprised how hoarse her own voice sounded. “So much has happened… just tonight, let us run from the shadows of the past.”

He stepped forward, still a darkness in his eyes, battling with the fire that was in there, too. He thoughtfully cupped her cheeks with his hands, gently stroking them with his thumbs, then letting his hands run down to her throat, to finally rest them on her shoulders. 

Symmetrical. Even. Controlled.

“I’m tired of running, Lix, so tired. Do we always have to run? Can I not, for once, just... stay?”

She saw the plea in his eyes. Did she imagine it or did he really mean it that way? Did he want to stay with her… for good? After everything that had happened? And if he did – was it what she wanted, too? She didn’t want to think about it now. She didn’t want the guilt, and the grief, and the dark thoughts wash over her, again. 

She wanted to feel Randall, she wanted to feel his passion, his desire, not thinking about the consequences, holding each other, ignoring reality like they had ignored it in the past, hidden away in their shelter.

She gently stroked his sides in a slow and teasing, yet, symmetrical, manner. 

“Tonight, we stay here. ‘We might all die, tomorrow.’ Remember?”

“It’s not the war anymore, Lix.”

“It feels like war to me, Randall. All those terrible things happening, all those… it is as if death is closing in around us, again. Like…”

“…like you can hear the artillery from afar, holding your breath for the impact, waiting for the sirens warning us the bombers are approaching, seeking for shelter, preparing for the next attack?”

She nodded and let her hand sink into his hair, pulling him close. They engaged in a long, desperate kiss, lost in their memories, clinging to each other again as if there was no tomorrow.

Randall peeled Lix out of her blouse and put it on a hanger. Meticulously, making sure it hung perfectly straight and the collar points were exactly symmetrical. Those quirks had annoyed her terribly back in Spain. They had felt like an interruption, a distraction from what she wanted, what they both wanted. Tonight, for the first time, she perceived them differently. 

Maybe it was because tonight, they had time on their hands, no immediate danger around the corner. Maybe it was experience. Experience with men who were hasty, dithery, and generally careless about many things, including her. Maybe it was because since the past few weeks and especially since earlier today, she had started understanding Randall better. She started  _ seeing  _ him. 

This was not an interruption in seducing each other. This was part of it. It added to the thrill, the anticipation, the excitement. Just like a good interlude enriched the whole musical piece - exactly like that. For Randall, taking care of all the little things and details, even in the bedroom, maybe especially in the bedroom, was part of a well-orchestrated symphony and just now, Lix started  _ listening _ . 

He turned around and the fire burned stronger than ever in his eyes. He reached around her and unclasped her bra. He removed it with one swift movement, folded it and placed it on a chair. Skirt and nylons followed. He had definitely gained a lot of experience in those past twenty years. 

There was something special about being undressed by Randall, always had been, even when he was young and inexperienced, even when the fear and the urgent desire had rushed him more than tonight. It gave her the feeling that she was something valuable and precious. Something he had to unwrap carefully for the fear of breaking it. Something he wanted to take care of and protect at all costs.

He guided her to lie on her back, exactly in the middle of the bed. Then, he slowly brought his body on top of hers. She immediately spread her legs. She nearly hated herself for being so ready for him. She wished he had removed her knickers, but if he hadn’t removed them now, he had his reasons. Randall always knew what he wanted and how he wanted it. And usually, it wasn’t to her disadvantage.

He rested his hands left and right of her ears and bowed down for a long, lingering, teasing kiss. She felt him bringing his erection, still covered by his underpants, between her legs. He started to roll his hips, using the fabric between them to bring exactly the right friction to her clitoris. She gasped, both surprised and excited.

She looked into his eyes and he couldn’t suppress a small smirk and a short wiggle of the eyebrows. They had never done it like this before, but obviously, he remembered that her clitoris was extremely sensitive and she needed indirect, but firm, pressure. Obviously, he had been thinking about  _ this  _ for a long time. He had been thinking about  _ them _ for a long time. It was a thrilling and endearing thought.

It was the last clear thought she had, she already felt the tension in her lower body building, and wondered how long she would be able to last under his slow, yet constant, rhythm. She got lost in his blue-green eyes that pinned her while his lower body tortured her in the best possible ways. 

And as if this wasn’t enough, he broke eye contact and started to give her breasts some more attention, gently kissing them, trailing paths between them with his tongue, circling and nibbling her nipples until they were standing upright. He hadn’t forgotten one single detail of her body and she felt nearly like he was worshipping her.

Obviously, she was not the only one who enjoyed this. She felt his erection growing harder with his movements and while he had started out with a smug smile, enjoying her excitement, her gasps, her moans, her silent pleas, and her ragged breath, he obviously became more involved the closer she felt to her climax.

His breath started to become erratic, his kisses were sloppier, less precise. His hips stopped rolling and started pushing and rubbing against her. She reached for his buttocks and kneaded them encouragingly. He was close, too. She felt the tension there and against her body. The thought of Randall, the man who was always in control, losing his control over something he thought of, he planned, he started, the always tidy and accurate man making a mess in his own pants because he couldn’t hold back when he was captured between her legs, was an extremely stimulating thought.

It was this thought that pushed her over the edge. With a deep moan, she came, pushing her body against him, seeking for all the friction she could get. The waves that washed over her body and her brain didn’t seem to end. 

And apparently, seeing her come like this did it for him. Rubbing himself to her body which shook with her orgasm a few more times, he came, too. With a sound she hadn’t heard for twenty years and was impossible to describe, something between a groan and a cry, he came, too. It took him four almost violent pushes of his hip, then he broke down, catching his fall with his elbows to avoid crushing her with his body. 

He was spent.


	4. Consequences

“Sorry,” Randall mumbled, panting, his head against her head.

“I don’t see anything to be sorry for. I didn’t come that good in ages,” Lix said, caressing the back of his head.

“Really?” he propped himself up, looking at her incredulous, cheeks still slightly pink, if from excitement, exhaustion, or embarrassment was hard to tell.

“Really!” She confirmed with a tender smile. 

She usually didn’t like men who were asking for confirmation after sex, but this was different. First of all, it was the truth, and this said more about her love life than she wanted to admit. And then, Randall had thought of something that would please her. Not the dull and often untalented way her lovers usually chose, if they really cared enough to make an attempt. It was more. He had kept all that knowledge he had about her body inside his head for twenty years and had carefully thought about a way to pleasure her first, without thinking about his own satisfaction. And this was somehow typical for Randall, for her orderly, obsessed, compulsive, quirky… Boss? Colleague? Ex? Friend? Lover? 

“You deserve better, Lix,” he uttered, his voice heavy with an emotion that was hard to place, the fire in his eyes replaced with a soft glow. He let his thumb run over her cheek. “So much better.”

She couldn’t put a label on him. He was unique. He was unique to her. There was a warm feeling in her heart that resonated with the glow in his eyes. She still tried to ignore it. 

But she knew him, and she knew him well enough to know that he was certainly not okay with the situation as it was now. She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

“It’s okay, Randall…. Go, clean yourself. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

There was a hint of a thankful smile on his face.

“You’ll find cigarettes and everything else you might need in the drawer of the bedside table.”

He said as he carefully got up and went to the bathroom.

She smiled. What she really needed right now was a drink and she doubted she would find it there. She peeked in the drawer which held, neatly aligned, an assortment of different cigarette brands, an ashtray, lighters, a box of tissues, small towels, cleaning lotion, lubricant, and condoms. It seemed Randall was well-prepared for whatever might happen in his bedroom. However, most of those things didn’t look as if they were frequently used, except the ashtray and the pack with his favorite brand of cigarettes. 

After she got rid of her knickers and used some tissues from the half-empty box, she lit a cigarette and sat back against the headboard, ashtray in hand. She heard the sound of Randall showering from the bathroom and smirked. The control-freak who had lost control needed to piece himself together again.

Her smirk turned into a tender smile when she thought about the way he looked at her afterwards, the soft glowing in his eyes and the way he said, “you deserve better, Lix.” Her smile turned bitter. No, she didn’t deserve better. She had made some terrible mistakes. Still made them. And she didn’t deserve the care Randall had shown towards her tonight.

Maybe she should leave before this went too far? Before they would become too attached to each other? She felt that there was a high risk of her falling for him completely if she stayed. And this wouldn’t be fair. Randall needed someone else. Someone more stable. Someone less chaotic. Someone neat, clean, and tidy. Not an alcoholic who stumbled through the fractures of her life, trying to be at least a good journalist if she had failed on all other accounts of life. 

But she was too worn out, too exhausted, too tired. Too torn and shattered by this terrible day to find the energy for getting up, getting dressed, and leaving. And… she had just promised she wouldn’t leave tonight. And… she needed Randall tonight. She needed to feel him close and forget about everything. About Sofia. And about Freddie…

She closed her eyes as the pain washed over her. Her heart clenched.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Randall leaning in the doorframe of the bathroom. He was wearing a dark blue silk bathrobe and his eyes rested upon her. Something in his expression told her that something had changed… that he had come to a decision while showering.

“Lix.” 

He said hoarsely, his hands fidgeting, trying to even out the bathrobe, undecided if his hands should go into the pockets, stay out of the pockets or if he indeed needed to cross his arms. He cleared his throat. His voice was soft, low, calm, steady, and tinged with emotion. 

“Lix, this isn’t Spain. This isn’t the war. We are not close to being killed. What we do has consequences. It had back then, and it has now. We can’t run away forever; we have to face them.”

She had feared this conversation, feared it more than anything else ever since she saw Randall again. She knew it would be inevitable, but somehow, she had hoped they could postpone it to a point in the future. In the far future, preferably. And especially, she had hoped they wouldn’t have to touch this topic _tonight._

“I don’t want to face the consequences, I’m not ready to face them, not tonight, Randall.”

“I know.”

He moved to the side of the bed, became distracted by something, frowned, reached for her knickers which she had discarded carelessly, took them up, folded them neatly and placed them on the chair with her other clothes. Then, he sat beside her. 

“I know, Lix, I know. I felt the same a few minutes ago, until…” he trailed off, letting his hand run over her cheek and her throat, until he reached the chain around her neck, “Lix, we are not young anymore. We are older, maybe a bit wiser, maybe a bit more… responsible,” he took the ring between his fingers, focusing on it, then looking back into her eyes, “Lix, you still have my ring.” 

Where was he heading with this? Why did he bring up this hurtful topic? Why did he bring it up just _now_?

“Yes… you told me you didn’t want it back,” she said, slightly hesitant.

“Those were not my exact words. Words matter, Lix. You and I, we know that best.”

She closed her eyes, remembering everything. Remembering every little detail in this hotel room in Barcelona. How he had knelt before her, asking her for her hand in marriage, offering her the ring. How she had declined, not wanting to be married just because they made a mistake, because he had gotten her pregnant, because he was _pitying_ her and felt the need to take the responsibility. How he had insisted she should keep the ring.

She instinctively reached for the ring and felt Randall’s hand placing it into her palm. She held it close. She opened her eyes and met his blue-green eyes. They were questioning her. Interrogating her. Wanted to know if she remembered. Oh, _how well_ she remembered!

“You said: ‘Keep it. Think about it. Know that as long as you got this ring, you got my heart. You can come back anytime, and I will marry you. If you don’t want it, sell the ring and use the money for our baby. But know that like this ring, my heart belongs to you, Lix Storm.’”

As she spoke the words, she saw that Randall articulated the same words in silence. He recalled them just as clearly as she did. The glow in his eyes was nearly gone, replaced with a deep sadness. The same sadness she felt in her own heart.

“We were young, Randall. We made a mistake. We paid for it. Why bring up the past? Why stir it up, resurfacing all this pain again?”

“Because you still have the ring. Because you _know_ what it means. Because you know _exactly_ what that means, Lix Storm.”


	5. Memories

“Because you still have the ring. Because you _know_ what it means. Because you know _exactly_ what that means, Lix Storm,” Randall said, his voice low and hoarse, sadness in his eyes.

Something was gently taking Lix’ heart and squeezed it the way it hurt. A realization. 

“You mean… But we were young. This is the kind of romantic nonsense you say when you are young and… you…” the realization now was tugging at her heart, tore it out of her chest and turned it around, “you don’t want to say that you really _loved_ me back then, Randall?”

A soft nod. Nothing more. The minimalist way he confirmed the unthinkable was more painful than any words he could have used.

“You didn’t ask to marry me out of pity and because you felt obliged to take the responsibility for our mistake?”

“Of course not, Lix. How could you even assume that? I wouldn’t have asked you, I wouldn’t have gone that far with you, anyway, if my heart hadn’t been into it.”

Suddenly, she felt dizzy. She had had no idea he had felt that way. 

Sure, he had been attractive back then, despite his fidgeting and his quirks. He had been her favorite colleague, they worked great together, always next to the main battle scenes, always looking for the best stories, always playing with fire. 

When they went into this small city, they knew it was of strategic significance and the Nationalists’ troops were close. Yet, it was an important base for the International Brigades, and they could get some great exclusive content and interviews. It was too good a chance not to risk it for two young, hot-blooded war correspondents. 

When the Nationalists circled in, when they closed off all roads, when they finally were completely under siege, when artillery was firing day and night, when they brought in German air force to bomb random quarters, they knew that this time, they had been running out of luck. With the house-to-house fightings coming closer, them frequently changing hiding places in different hotel rooms and cellars, it was only the question of what would get them killed first, the bombs, the shells, or the soldiers.

They had made the best out of their miserable situation, holding each other tight. Making love because it was something they still could do, something they could still enjoy, especially after even the supply of alcohol was running low. But she couldn’t tell if she had loved him, or if it was just the situation, two lost souls, clinging to somebody, _anybody,_ who was willing to offer comfort and reassurance. 

And until now, she had been absolutely sure that for Randall it had been just that. That he had offered to marry her because for Randall, orderly, tidy, organized Randall, it was how things had to be to fit into his neat little world. He had made a mistake. After they escaped certain death by sheer luck, there was a child to be born, so he would marry the mother. It had never occurred to her that there could have been anything beyond pity and maybe a feeling of obligation towards a friend involved.

Lix stared at Randall as if she was seeing him the first time in her life.

He had _loved_ her back then. She had read him wrong. She had read him wrong not only since he came back… she had read him wrong such a long time ago, too. What else did she read wrong? What else didn’t she see? What else didn’t she understand? 

The ring seemed to burn in the palm of her hand.

“Why did you keep it?”

Randall’s voice, raw and very low, nearly a whisper.

Why had she kept it… why was she carrying it around her neck ever since they parted ways in Spain to never see each other again for twenty years? It was a painful question. And she had thought about it very often in those past twenty years. 

“Because… it reminded me… Reminded me of many things…” 

Sometimes this ring felt like a heavy millstone around her neck. This was one of those occasions. She didn’t want to talk about it, but Randall had asked, and, in a way, he had a right to know it. 

“It reminds me of Spain… of you… of... Sofia…” she took a deep breath, “Sofia. I… abandoned her. I found a good organization and they took her directly after birth… that was the deal, so I wouldn’t… you know… become too attached, wanting to keep her…” 

She fell silent. She didn’t want to talk about these things. About all the painful memories. The hospital. The doctor. The nurses. All _judging_ her. Not really saying anything but letting her feel what they thought about her. Of course, they were right. Of course, she was one of those stupid, young girls who didn’t care about the consequences, ending up here… 

All the pain from earlier on, the grief and the guilt washed over her. The tears started running down her cheeks before she even realized it or could make an attempt to stop them. She covered her eyes with one hand, the ashtray shaking in the other.

“If only I had kept her. If only I would have taken care of her. If I had been more disciplined, more willing to take the responsibility… I… I _killed_ her…”

Randall immediately took the ashtray from her hand and put it rather carelessly on the bedside table. Then, he wrapped her in his arms.

“Lix,” was the only thing he murmured as he gently pulled her to his chest.

Apparently, now it was her time to break down. As soon as she felt him near, smelling of his soap, aftershave, cigarettes, but, most dominantly, of _Randall_ , she leaned into him, sobbing helplessly, not able to contain herself.

He just held her in his arms, one hand protectively on the back of her head, the other wrapped around her shoulder. 

Composed, as always. She always wondered how one single human being could be so composed… until she realized something. 

She felt it more than she heard it. The wetness she felt on her hair wasn’t from his hair still being wet – he had dried and combed it accurately before he left the bathroom. It was his tears. He was crying. Silent tears fell to her head. And sometimes his chest heaved in a small sob between breathing. 

She closed her arms tighter around him and gently let her hand glide up and down his back in even strokes. He answered by slowly stroking her hair. 

Did they just cry over their lost daughter? Or did they, indeed, cry over the twenty years they had missed each other? 


	6. Parted Ways

They stayed that way for a long while, until Randall finally gathered himself enough to speak.

“Don’t feel guilty, Lix, Lix... Those were terrible circumstances and with a job like ours, in wartime… And you haven’t killed her. War killed her. A terrible, cruel war… like every war, it kills the innocent and vulnerable, those who don’t have any say in what happens… It doesn’t kill the old, rich men who start it, it kills the farmer in the field, the mother with her baby, the young man who is drawn away from his spouse to get himself maimed by a shell for a cause that isn’t his own, that isn’t worth it, that isn’t worth one single life…”

Randall’s voice sounded hoarse and got agitated once he started to talk about war. Lix felt how much he hated it, how helpless he felt because he couldn’t do anything to avoid it. That he could only _talk_ , _take photos_ , and _write_ about it, but never _do_ anything to prevent wars from happening. It had always bothered him the most, even when he was twenty years younger.

“And a child, a child being born, it is always something wonderful, no matter the circumstances. I’m absolutely sure that if she had had the chance…” Here, Randall’s voice broke. He loosened his grip and looked into her eyes. He tenderly cupped her cheek. “If Sofia would have gotten the chance to grow up, I’m convinced, I’m absolutely convinced, that she would have grown up to be just as beautiful, kind, and intelligent as her mother.”

There was a long moment of silence as his words sunk in. They had been spoken with the same sincerity like his words about war, but with the opposite emotion. The sadness in his eyes was accompanied by a warm glow again, and there was the tiniest of smiles in the corner of his mouth. He tenderly stroked her cheek. Her heart answered with a warm feeling. 

She tried to fight it. Ever since Randall had returned, she fought this feeling that was threatening to take over her heart. The warm feeling for this ghost from her past. For this man who was getting on her nerves because he was always so tidy, so calm, so _composed._ For this fidgeting idiot who always carefully hid his true self behind a distant façade, so nobody would see how much he _cared_ about everybody, about all the people around him.

And now, here he was, saying incredibly nice things about her. Sounding as if… as if he… 

She gulped but remained silent.

“Lix Storm…” Randall continued after some minutes of silence had passed, taking her hand in his, cupping it with the other, “you still have my ring and you know it means you still have my heart. It is yours alone and you decide what to do with it.”

Lix looked down to her hand, covered by his large hand. It couldn’t mean… It couldn’t mean he still loved her, could it? It would be too incredible. Not after twenty years. Not this old, tired wreckage of herself.

“That… that was twenty years ago, Randall! We haven’t seen each other in twenty years. I was gone, out of your life. How can I still have your heart?”

“Oh, Lix,” he sighed, smiling, his eyes twinkling, “Lix, Lix... _my_ Lix. Always the journalist. Never believes just one source. Always needs to dig deeper. Always needs to hear the whole story. Even if a man makes himself vulnerable, bares his heart and soul, Lix Storm doubts what she hears. Needs to dissect, needs to _know_ his motivations, his _hidden agenda_. Fine, then…”

Randall let go of her hand and for a moment Lix feared that she had broken something valuable, that she destroyed the bond between them by not plainly accepting what he offered. 

Randall moved and rested his back against the headboard. He took his favorite cigarettes from the drawer, offered her one, then took one himself.

“Fine, then, let me tell you a story, Lix Storm,” he said as he lit the cigarettes and placed the ashtray exactly between them on the bed.

“When we parted ways in Barcelona, you going North, over the border, into a security of sorts, me going South to Madrid, I was rather sure that your word had been final. You had sent me away, even refusing my offer to support you until the child was born... You wouldn’t reconsider, even if I showed up at your doorstep again. I was not careful to avoid dangerous situations. I went into the middle of conflict and, in a way, I was rather disappointed that all those shells and bullets missed me. Well, one bullet hit my shoulder, but didn’t make it far.”

Randall bared the scar on his shoulder. Lix immediately reached for it and caressed it tenderly. 

“Only a flesh wound, nothing serious. I recovered fast, but the Civil War ended. Mercifully, the World War started and so I could go to the next battleground, always as near to the frontlines as I could get. I didn’t actively search for death, but I wouldn’t have minded if this old friend finally got me. And I have to admit, even when it were close calls, the only thing that truly scared me was when I heard about air raids in France or England on the radio, because I was deeply worried for you and the child.”

There was a moment of silence as they both thought about the terrible report saying that their child and its adoptive parents were killed in exactly that. An air raid that destroyed their dwellings.

“Well, some years later, war was finally over.” Randall shrugged. “Now, I had to rethink what I should do. I didn’t want to continue being a war correspondent. For one, because I was tired of war. And then, because I heard that you were still one, a rather successful one, and so it was just a question of time until our paths would cross again. It was eight years since we parted ways, and I told myself that I had to move on. You were able to track me down and send me a note when our daughter was born in the middle of war, so I figured if you had reconsidered my offer, you would have come back to me or at least contacted me during the first year of peace.”

Lix closed her eyes, realizing that for eight long years this man had actually hoped for her to send him a message, eventually coming back to him. It never had occurred to her. For her, it had been a one-time offer, one that had been certainly worded differently, but had been made under the impression of the war and the shock of being still alive and her being pregnant. She never had thought that he truly meant it.

_That she really could have come back anytime and he would have married her._


	7. Moving On

Randall lit another cigarette.

“I settled for an office job. It was not too hard to find one. As I had always been next to the fire, I had always been able to deliver quite good stories and exclusive content from the frontlines, so I could pick which newspaper suited me best. I’m rather sure you are aware of my curriculum vitae, so I don’t have to bore you with the details.”

Lix nodded, still trying to grasp the whole depth of what he just told her the last few minutes. 

“I stopped drinking, hoping with a clearer head the world would look differently,” Randall continued, thoughtfully following the trail of smoke with his eyes. “It does, mind me, I don’t regret that, would always highly recommend it because I realized how much less I _saw_ , how much less I _thought,_ and especially _felt_ , how _numb_ I was. But it didn’t do anything for my heart.”

Lix, for her part, could have done with a good gin or in fact _anything_ that contained alcohol, so she wouldn’t have to sit through this story that caused her heart to clench, sting, and ache, so mercilessly sober. 

“I always wanted to have a family and I felt time was running out, so I actively told my heart it had to move on. I went looking for a woman to marry and have children with. With an office job and quite a good regular pay, I felt I had enough security to offer. And indeed, there were some women who would give me a chance, overlooking, or even, on rare occasions, accepting my quirks and my strangeness.”

Randall finished his second cigarette, making sure he extinguished the butt evenly and arranged it in the perfect angle to the other butts in the ashtray. He didn’t light another one. Instead he leaned back and stared to the ceiling while telling his story.

“But of course, they all realized pretty soon something was not alright, something was off. I sometimes hoped that with all my tics, they wouldn’t realize it. But of course, they did, they realized that when I was with them, it was not really _them_ I was with. I chose them as close to you as a model as possible, not only for the looks, but especially for the intelligence… of course, they were smart enough to figure out something was not alright with me. So, there was always the time when I had to tell them. At the latest when they assumed, I was secretly gay. Oh, how often I wished I was, because it would have been something easy to explain… something that wouldn’t have made them feel they failed… that they failed as women… It didn’t matter how hard I tried to explain that it was my fault, not theirs… it was always very personal and left a lot of hurt feelings, even if I managed to stay friends with some of them. It was always a devastating experience.”

Randall had closed his eyes, his hands fidgeting, the corners of his mouth twitching in pain, it was obvious that the memories tortured him. Lix moved closer and put her arm around his hips, then carefully took his hand in hers. He rested his head against hers. She would make sure that he didn’t have to face this pain, or _any_ pain, alone anymore. He exhaled, maybe gathering his thoughts, maybe relieved to feel her close, maybe both. For sure piecing together how to go on with this… confession? She felt it was like a confession for him.

“It took me years to realize that it wouldn’t work, no matter how hard I tried. There was no way to base a healthy relationship on a heart that was not willing to get involved. A heart that wasn’t free to love another person _that_ way. All these attempts just caused more hearts to be broken, more other people I cared deeply about wounded. So, I stopped.”

He sighed. Whatever it was he wanted to tell her next, it seemed difficult for him. He needed time to find the words, to find the _exactly right_ way to say it. It took him a minute of just staring at the ceiling, eyes flickering, seemingly trying to find something up there. Then, he continued:

“There are certain needs that have to be satisfied. Things a man, possibly every human being, can’t be without… you saw the drawer… I decided that the fairest way to go about that was to pay for it. And without the need for buying alcohol or sustaining a family, I always could afford the best services… Even for this…” and he raised their intertwined hands, “I paid.”

This whole story had been deeply moving so far, but _this_ confession nearly broke her heart. To think that this upright, considerate, kind man would actually _pay_ for someone to listen to him and hold his hand when he felt lost and alone, obviously not wanting to burden someone else, not even a good friend, with it, was just so unspeakably sad.

“Randall, I…”

She wanted to promise him that whatever happened and whatever they might and might not become, he could always call her, and she would be there to hold his hand, but he stopped her.

“Shhh, Lix. I think I have to tell this story, tell you the whole story, in _exactly_ the right sequence, otherwise I will never find the courage to tell it again.”

That was exactly what she had sensed earlier on – it was a confession. A confession of his life, baring his soul, laying everything that had been out before her feet. And it was an offering, an offering she could either accept or trample upon if she felt like it.


	8. Finding Closure

“When Freddie…” They both squeezed the hand of the other at the mention of their close friend and colleague who was battling for his life in hospital, “when I met Freddie in Paris, it was inevitable to learn about your whereabouts, no matter how hard I had tried avoiding it so far. What he told me stayed, mercifully, on a professional level, nothing private, but still, it stirred up the old emotions. I felt I couldn’t go on like this anymore. I needed to find closure, one way or the other. I had to tie up the loose ends to be finally able to move on. So… the first thing I did… was start searching for our daughter.”

Lix reached for the cigarettes. She needed something to calm her nerves. Randall offered her fire but didn’t take a cigarette himself. Maybe he felt it interrupted his train of thoughts now that the events he talked about came closer to the _now_. 

“I felt the need to know what happened to her, how she was doing… Letting her know that she had a father… I was rather sure I wouldn’t find the courage to face her once I found her. I was sure I couldn’t look her in the eyes, knowing that I had abandoned you both. But… I wanted to write her a letter, telling her everything. Telling her that she was loved by her parents, even if circumstances had led to her adoption. That she never should think that the reason she was in this world was a _mistake_ . Because _it was no mistake_. The reason she was in this world was that two good friends had sought comfort in each other when they expected to die in the next few hours. So, even if the circumstances were all but lucky, still, it was a beautiful reason for being born, born out of the wish for comfort, shelter and love.”

Randall had grabbed his upper arms, maybe hugging himself, maybe hugging the image of his daughter he had in his mind.

“And I wanted to tell her that her mother was one of the finest, kindest and smartest people I had ever known. That the circumstances were terrible, and the only way we could provide her with a good home was by giving her up for adoption. That I’m proud of who my daughter was and what she had become. And that, whenever she needed something, she should just come to me, because she had a father who was willing to do anything to help her. And that, even if I never saw her and it took me so long to find the courage to look for her…”

Randall took a deep breath.

“…I loved her very much. That she would never have to do anything to prove worthy of this love, because this love was unconditional. I wanted to write her everything my father never told me, and which would have helped me so much. I wanted to do it better, even just a _little bit_ _better_ , you know?”

The last sentence was ended by a low, nearly unnoticeable sob. Randall rubbed his eyes but couldn’t stop the tears. Lix extinguished her cigarette and took Randall’s hand again, gently stroking it with her thumb.

There was no denying what this warm feeling in her heart meant. She loved him. Maybe she had always loved him. But especially now, as his always composed façade crumbled, and she saw the soul behind it, a soul that was so much kinder and caring than she had ever anticipated, so vulnerable and precious, she had to admit it to herself: _That she really, truly loved him_.

He had regained his composure enough to come to the end of his story.

“The call to the BBC as Head of News was a very welcoming one as it would inevitably lead to meeting you again. I hoped that when I faced you, my heart would realize that it just clung to a ghost, to an image from the past. That you weren’t like I recalled you and, especially, not available anymore. I imagined you smiling at me, as if you had nearly forgotten about me, trying to remember who I was. I hoped for a big, strong, handsome Mr. Storm to shake my hand. Firmly. Making it clear that he would break every single bone in my body if I ever dared to look at you the wrong way. I hoped for two or three kids greeting me, and you introducing me as “uncle Randall”, a weird friend from your past. That they would play their tricks on me, and I would play along, pretending I didn’t know them already.”

A melancholic streak crossed Randall’s expression as he talked about how he envisioned the encounter with her and her imaginary family.

“Instead, you just found me. Silly, old, broken me,” she commented with a bitter smile.

“Oh Lix… Lix, Lix… _my_ Lix. When I met you again, the very moment I saw you, having become even more beautiful with age and experience… So beautiful, so strong, so _in charge_ of things. When I realized that you were not married, when I realized that no one had been able to capture your heart… that, instead, you were just as broken and alone as _I_ am… when we started working together again… first on _The Hour,_ later in finding our daughter, _one team_ , like in old times…” 

His hand cramped around her hand, desperate, as if he was drowning, seeking for rescue. She answered by tightening her grip, too, securing him, keeping him from being dragged under by his emotions.

“My heart fell for you again. Fell deeper and more complete than ever. And I fought it more than ever. Fought it, until it hurt. Fought it, until I couldn’t fight anymore. Until I surrendered tonight and gave in to the wish to feel you close at least one more time, one more night…”

Randall let go of her hand and took her chin, making her look at him, into his eyes that were glowing, glowing stronger than ever, an ocean of emotions inside, a storm of feelings, those eyes that were windows to a heart crying out to the only other heart it was able to love. 

“Lix Storm, I love you.” 

The words fell heavy, followed by a moment of silence. Probably because he hadn’t said them for a long time, and he needed a moment to gather himself from saying them. Maybe…

 _If he never said them to her, maybe he had never said them to anyone?_

Then, it broke out of him, the great final, the end of his confession:

“I love you, and I fear no power in this whole world can stop me from it. I have tried to stop myself for twenty years now and to no avail. My heart belongs to you, not only because you still have my ring. My heart just simply belongs to you, no matter what you or I do. There is no closing of this chapter for me, not as long as I am alive. You have to know this, Lix: probably from the very first day I met you, but for sure since we worked together in Spain, all I ever wanted was to spend my life by your side. So, whatever happens, if you ever feel like it, whenever you feel like it, no matter the circumstances, no matter the time, come to me, and I will marry you.”


	9. Together

Lix looked into Randall’s eyes and still couldn’t believe how deep his love ran for her. She was not able to grasp it, she didn’t feel she deserved it, but there was also no way to doubt it. He had made himself vulnerable before her eyes, bared his soul, showed his heart, confessed his whole life, and his last sentences had been an unconditional surrender to her. 

Her heart cried out to say “yes”, to beg him to marry her on the spot, right here, right now. However, her mind warned her that he at least deserved some words of caution before he made a big mistake. He had shown her everything he was, everything he felt, so now, it was her time. She never had been as idealistic as Randall, who always hid the soul of a poet behind the façade of a manager. She was more realistic, pragmatic, down-to-earth, but maybe this situation called exactly for that, for a pinch of brutal honesty. For the sake of both of them she had to be honest with him, no matter what her heart told her. She gently took his hand from her chin and wrapped it in hers.

“Randall, are you sure you are not chasing a ghost, an unrealistic, idealized image of me that you have put on an altar those past twenty years? Because, look at me, look at me not like you do now, exhausted after a terrible day and with the eyes of a love-sick teenager. Look at me with the critical eyes of the grown-up investigative journalist you are: I’m broken, I’m headstrong and I’m an alcoholic. I’m too old to have children. You will never have the family you always wished for if you marry me. There are younger women out there who can still give you that. I’m chaotic and I will most likely trigger your tics a thousand times during an ordinary Saturday morning. I value my independence and I love my job. I will not stop working, and I won’t refrain from going into dangerous situations if the story calls for it. I was not able to keep a relationship with anyone for more than a few weeks, and it all comes down to the aforementioned facts you have to consider. If you marry me, I want to be sure you have thought about that. Because, honestly…” she let go of his hand and stroked his cheek, “maybe for the first time in my life, I feel I want to be in this relationship and I want it to work out.”

“Lix,” he said, exhaling, resting his forehead against hers, “I have read the fine print of this relationship up and down that past few weeks of us working together. I have argued against me and my heart, I made the case why we shouldn’t be together over and over again. But, Lix… All the papers you throw onto your desk and I want to file away. All the clothes I want to pick up and place on a hanger. Each and every speck on your glasses I want to clean immediately… All those little things bother me, and I want to set them straight, but they are bearable. The only thing unbearable for me is the thought of spending just one more day of my life, one more night, without having you by my side.”

His hand tightened the grip around her hand, as if he feared losing her.

“We don’t need a family because we already have a family. The way I saw you care about everybody on the team and the way I care about them, they _are_ our family. And we can care for them together, each and every day at the office. And for the other things… well, I sure wish you would quit the alcohol, to be honest. I sincerely hope you will come to the same decision I made years ago. I have never regretted it, and neither will you, but the decision is on you. All I can do is support you. And I don’t want to see you going into danger, but I know better than keeping you from anything you set your mind on. I love you, Lix Storm. I have read the fine print and I can assure you I know what marrying you means.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, looking up to her, a hopeful plea that made her heart bath in the love that glowed in those blue-green eyes.

“Randall, the ring is already there.”

He looked for a moment as if he was paralyzed. As if he didn’t understand what was happening. As if she had brought chaos into his order. He looked at her in disbelief, before finally realization dawned at him and the glow in his eyes intensified.

His hands were trembling as he reached around her neck. They trembled so much he didn’t manage to open the chain. She placed her hands on his wrists, gently massaging his joints with her thumbs, in a slow, symmetrical manner.

“Randall,” she said with a small smirk, finally allowing the love she felt for him to crawl into her eyes, “I love you. This won’t change and I’m not running away. It took us twenty years to get to this point, there is no need to rush things, now. Take your time.”

He closed his eyes, gulped, and took a deep breath. With much steadier hands he opened the chain, took it from her neck and let the ring glide into his hand.

He took her right hand in his.

“Lix Storm, you know that marrying me will probably come with all sorts of unpleasant surprises as I am what I am and there are many things I can’t change. So, you probably should consider very well how you answer my next question…” 

He had made every effort to keep his voice steady, but now he had to take a short break to get it under control again. He gulped and continued: 

“Would you be willing to take me as your husband?”

“There is not much left to consider. We have waited long enough, haven’t we, Randall?” 

She smiled. He frowned. She realized she had to word it in a way his exhausted and nervous mind would be able to process the meaning. Her smile broadened. 

“Yes. Yes, I will, Randall Brown!” 

His hands were still trembling slightly as he tried to put the ring on her finger in a smooth movement. She helped him. This time, their roles were reversed, Lix was calm and sure and Randall was nervous, still not fully grasping that she really said “yes” to him.

Lix smiled as she reached into his hair and kissed him, telling his body what his heart and his mind refused to acknowledge. That she was his and he was hers and they would face this world together, no matter what it decided to throw at them. 

His body understood immediately and answered accordingly. 

Their bodies discovered each other, revisiting what they knew, exploring what was unknown and finding new paths along the way. 

Their minds took up the delightful way of playing with each other again, the game of taking over, being in and giving up control. 

Their hearts, being told for twenty years what they were and were not allowed to feel, were finally free to feel what they always felt, what they always had known: that they were just two parts belonging together, evening out each other, being a perfect, symmetrical shape when they were close, when they were beating next to each other. 

For the rest of the night, two lost souls that finally had found each other chased away the ghosts from their past – together.


End file.
